the goodbye letters (#3)

the goodbye letters




  • a means of limiting or regulating something
  • the power to influence or direct people’s behaviour or the course of events

Dear Control,

The funny thing is that my struggle to let you go is part of the problem, isn’t it?

On Sundays when I lie in bed and think of the week ahead, I like to know that I’ve already sorted out what’s coming ahead. But sometimes life doesn’t work out the way we plan for it to.

Sometimes life is the maybe, the what if, the in the event that. Sometimes life is full to the brim with variables, and all we can do is let it be.

That drives me crazy. I like for things to go according to Plan A, to be set, to be certain. To complete the sentence with a full stop, not a question mark. Finality.

I lowkey think I wasn’t built for the variable, but I know that’s not the case, hard as it is to accept this truth.

So I’m breaking up with you. I’m letting you go because I know that if I do, I open myself up to a life of adventure.

I know that if I do, there is an endless world of surprises waiting for me. Some are good, some are bad, and that’s okay. Both these will make me better, if I learn from them. If I l view surprises as art, then I can appreciate the creativity of life.

I know that that a hand that is closed cannot receive.

I know that a mind that is bogged down with details and blueprints cannot expand.

It’s not me, it’s you.

This is farewell, and I’ve sealed it with a prayer and a mustard seed.

So then, goodbye, old friend.

And good riddance!

Forever free,


“For now he knew what Shalimar knew: if you surrendered to the air, you could ride it.” -Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon


Fe(a)sting on Friendships

I reckon Indian men should rule the world. Don’t get me wrong, black men are alright as far as some things go, and white aren’t any different, but Indian men…

So it all started with a trip to the Acoustic Soul show during National Arts Festival, Shela and me were excited that finally, I had a night off after having VoG rehearsals and performances for the past weekend, using up the time that I could have spent with her. We hadn’t seen each other in 3 years!). So anyway, we went to the Acoustic Soul show, where we met a lady who had a student ticket she wanted to get rid of (Amen, because I was broke as ever!), so I bought it and Shela and I enjoyed the show. After speaking with some of the band members, we left to get eats at The Long Table Restaurant. (“When are you getting to the Indian invasion stuff?” I hear you ask. Wait, dear friend, I’m working on a narrative here!)

“So Shela, what are we going to have?”

“Ag, that other soup we wanted is finished for the night. Let’s buy the Indian breyani what what soup and share.”

“Okay Shela, we’ll get two slices of bread too.”

Nelisa Kala and band during Arts Fest

Shela was keen to see The Awakening’s show, so we set out to find out how much the tickets were. If they were too expensive (for student pockets), we’d go watch something else. Approaching this nice looking tall lady, we struck up a conversation.

“Hello ladies, are you ladies busy tonight?” asked the Tall Lady. “What are you looking for?”

“Oh we were just looking at this poster. Do you by any chance know how much tickets to The Awakening are?”

“Oh no. But I thought that if you’re not busy, I’ve got free tickets to Gary Thomas’s

show if you want them?”

Dear friend, I must insert here a short explanation about black people in South Africa. We have a strong liking for mahala, free, stuff. It’s practically in our culture. Asking us if we want free tickets, even if we don’t know who the heck the artist is, is asking us if we’d like to keep warm on a winter night. It’s a no-brainer.

Shela and me start jumping around excitedly. “Yes! Of course, we’d like them. Thank you!”

When we got to Cuervo Room, we were bawled over by Gary Thomas’s set. That man can do crazy things with his guitar. He’s a wonder to watch. Now about that Indian invasion stuff… The MC was an Indian man who had this bottle of Jose Cuervo in his hand. He asked the audience members who wanted some and poured it into the mouths of those who were eager enough to go up to the front for a shot poured straight into their mouths. Anyway, after Gary’s awesome set, we’re getting ready to leave, but our dear Indian tequila lover informs us that since we’ve been such an awesome crowd…

“…don’t tell the others coming in,” Indian Tequila Lover says. “But you guys can stay in here for the next group, the next group will set up. It’ll only take fifteen minutes. They’re called The Awakening…”

You should have seen how elated Shela and me were. We went to a free performance only to be handed free entrance into the show we had really wanted to see!

This is why I say Indian men are great. Not only did he give us free entrance into The Awakening’s show, but the Indian Tequila Lover hooked us up with a free jam/ party dancing session after The Awakening’s performance. We chilled by the fire in the Cuervo Room and danced ourselves up a storm (despite our unimpressive moves). And of course, the DJ was Indian, from Durban.

I envision more free stuff if Indian men are in control. Really.  As stereotypes go: white men give you what’s of a lesser standard, black men take it all for themselves (greedy louts) and coloured men steal it, but Indian men love to share shem!

Next time you see an Indian man at National Arts Fest, get to know him better, sana, he’ll give you free stuff…


Your friend,

Dusty Soul

“The man of many friends may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” – Proverbs 18:24